


End of the Line

by wintersldr



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Childhood Friends to Lovers, College! AU, Eventual Smut?, M/M, Metal Arm Bucky, Modern AU, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Pining, Slow Burn, Violence, basically everything sucks for bucky, basically they grew up together, bucky has a hard time realizing he’s gay, maybe I’ll add in tags for smut later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2020-05-29 15:12:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19402894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersldr/pseuds/wintersldr
Summary: I’m with you til the end of the line.Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers were inseparable for all of their childhood. From birth to high school, they never left each other’s side. Until Bucky’s 18th birthday when he joined the army and suddenly disappeared from Steve’s life for 5 years.Until he shows up on his doorstep, presumed to be dead, with a metal arm and very much alive.This is the story of Bucky and Steve’s lives, told over the course of twenty years.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi!!! another fic!!! I posted the beginning to a different fic on here but had this idea as well and wanted to get it on paper. basically, for the first six or seven chapters it’s gonna be different points in their childhood and growing up together and what they go through. so i wanted to include a chapter with sarah for that!

_ July 1st, 1996 _

Sarah Rogers loved being pregnant. From the moment she found out, when the doctor had showed her the ultrasound and she’d seen her baby, her whole world had been flipped upside down. 

Every day, she looked in the mirror and felt joy explode in her chest as she watched her belly grow. She had painted murals on the nursery walls and decorated it with stuffed toys and animals. 

She’d always wanted to be pregnant. She’d always wanted to be a mom. 

When she’d found out it was a boy, she had cried for an hour. A boy! She had told Joseph she hoped he looked just like him. Blonde hair and blue eyes. 

They had decided on the name Steven, after Joseph’s father.  _ Steven.  _ The name rang in Sarah’s head all day long and she loved the way it sounded when she spoke to him at the end of the day. 

Every night, she’d sing lullabies to her belly, her voice soft. And he’d kick his little feet against her hands. She knew he could hear her. Her  _ Steven. _

As her belly grew and her pants got tighter, her excitement only grew. Her ankles were swollen and her back ached, but she knew she was one day closer to meeting her soulmate. 

That’s how she felt. Like he was her soulmate. 

When Sarah found out that Joseph had been killed in battle, her belly was the only thing that kept her going. She held it and sobbed in the night, and when she felt the little reassuring kicks against her skin it made the grief easier on her. 

That part never got easier. 

Every day she still looked at the framed portrait of Joseph on the fireplace, and hoped Steven looked just like him. 

Sarah had been there when her best friend, Winnie, had had her baby. A baby boy, too. He came squalling and screeching into the world, but when he opened his eyes he had deep blue eyes. Winnie had named him James. 

James was about three months old now, and he had a mess of brown curls on top of his head. He was curled up in Winnie’s arms as Sarah sat across from her. Winnie was stroking his cheek, looking lovingly down at him. 

Sarah and Winnie had never planned on being pregnant around the same time, but now Sarah was due any day. They talked every day about their kids being best friends. 

“Have you thought of a middle name yet?” Winnie pushes a stray curl off of James’ face. She was tired, Sarah could tell. Her husband, George, was in the Army too. He had been deployed for about two months now. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a knotted bun and she had some smeared mascara underneath her eyes. 

“Actually, yeah. I was thinking Grant,” she placed a protective hand over her belly. Winnie looked up in surprise, her eyes watering. 

“Really?” Grant was Winnie’s father’s name. He had been like another father to her growing up. 

“Steven Grant Rogers,” Sarah said softly. She looked down at her belly. When she said his full name, it felt like the world clicked into place. All the tectonic plates settled and everything was how it was supposed to be.  _ Steven Grant Rogers, my love. _

“It’s beautiful, Sarah,” Winnie said. She adjusted James in her arms, and he stirred. He reached his hands above his head with a yawn and looked up at her. Winnie’s eyes glowed as she watched him. 

Sarah loved being pregnant. 

  
  


—

  
  


Sarah loved being a mother even more. 

Labor had been hard. It had lasted two days: two days of agonizing back pain, walking hallways and taking long baths. Anything to try to bring him to her sooner. 

She just couldn’t wait to meet him. 

When she’d first seen him, tears had streamed down her face when she held him. He was small, but his head was covered in soft blond hair and his eyes were a bright blue. 

He clung to her finger as she held him. She didn’t want the nurse to take him from her, even though they needed to take him, she felt like the would lose herself if he was taken from her. 

Steve was born anemic and with a heart arrhythmia. But the doctors assured Sarah that he would be a healthy baby.

Winnie was there by her side the whole time. She held her hand and let Sarah squeeze it as hard as she needed to for each push, and was telling Sarah how well she was doing. She cried tears of joy when she saw Steve. She laid in the bed with Sarah and they marveled over how beautiful he was.

Her beautiful, beautiful Steve. 

He didn’t cry once. 

It was hard for her to not have Joseph here. But she prayed to him at night, whenever Steve was sound asleep in his crib, and prayed that Joseph would be watching over their son. 

She would love him forever and do whatever she needed to do for him. 

She would be with him until the end of the line. 


	2. ii

_ October 31st, 2004 _

“Bucky, wait!” Steve trailed behind Bucky in the dark, tugging up his too big pants. The Luke Skywalker costume his mom had gotten him  _ technically  _ fit, but it was still too big around his waist and hips. He was still too tiny for the extra small size costume. 

Bucky had on a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle costume - even though Steve had wanted him to dress up as Han Solo. His bandana on his head was as lopsided as his toothy grin when he stared at his best friend.

“C’mon, we have to get all the good candy! You know Mrs. Baker is going to be handing out full size candy bars,” he said. Since he had lost two of his teeth, he had a slight lisp. Steve always teased him for it. And Bucky could tease Steve about something, whether it be how bony and skinny he looked, how he couldn’t run in PE without his inhaler, or how he was color blind, but he didn’t. Bucky never made fun of Steve. 

That’s why he was his best friend. 

Their moms had made them promise they would be home on time, and they had each given their moms a pinky promise. They never broke pinky promises. 

They had also pinky promised each other they’d get as much candy as possible tonight. 

Bucky tugged on Steve’s too small wrist and pulled him down the sidewalk, and Steve did his best to keep up with the other boy. The sidewalks of their neighborhood were filled with kids in costumes and parents trailing behind them. The overly decorated houses had pulled out all the stops: spooky music, fog machines and strobe lights. He tried to keep up with his best friend. Bucky was always able to run a lot faster than Steve. 

He didn’t notice the rattling in his breathing or the burning in his lungs until Bucky was digging around in his pockets and shoving an inhaler between Steve’s lips. Steve gulped down the medicine and relished in the feeling of oxygen reaching his lungs. 

“C’mon Stevie, you should’ve told me to slow down,” Bucky frowned. “You know better!”

“You sound like ma,” Steve said when he caught his breath. He watched Bucky shove the inhaler back into his pocket. His lungs were starting to work on their own and the burn in his throat had gone away. 

“Oh shut up, punk.”

“Jerk.”

“Yeah, I know. C’mon, let’s see what we got, we don’t need to hurry,” Bucky tugged him over to the sidewalk. Steve hated when he ruined things for Bucky. He had wanted to get as much candy as possible tonight, but of course his stupid lungs had stopped him. They sat down, Bucky’s knee bumping into Steve’s knobby one. They dug through their bags of candy and Steve traded the ones he couldn’t eat with some of Bucky’s.

They sat there for a while, just content next to each other. Until Steve started shivering because he had insisted he didn’t need to wear a coat with his costume, and now he was cold. Bucky got up and held out a hand to the smaller boy. 

“C’mon Stevie,” he pulled him up and they walked down the streets until they found their neighborhood, joking and laughing with each other the whole way. 

But, something was wrong. 

The end of their cul de sac was bathed in flashing red and blue lights, and a cop car was parked in front of Bucky’s house. Steve’s stomach dropped as he looked at his friend, who had dropped his bag of candy on the pavement and ran inside. His bandana had fallen off his head. Candy was spilled all over the road as the lights flashed against the houses, painting the neighborhood in an eerie glow. 

Steve and Bucky weren’t allowed to speak to the police men. The night was a blur for Steve, he’d never know what it was like for Bucky. The police men talking to Bucky’s mom. Sarah, Steve’s mom, holding her in her arms while racking sobs took over her body. Steve heard the name “George” and “car accident” and “I’m sorry ma’am, there was nothing we could do.”

_ I’m sorry, ma’am. There was nothing we could do.  _

Bucky didn’t sleep that night. He laid awake next to Steve, dried tears and snot crusted on his cheeks and nose. He hadn’t taken off his costume and neither had Steve. The front of Bucky’s was wet with tears. 

Bucky’s room was always one of Steve’s favorite places. He had hundreds of glow in the dark stars on his ceiling, stacks of Pokémon cards on his desk and boxes and boxes of Legos and action figures. 

At night, they used to lay awake and make up constellations in the stars. They’d tell stories about them and make up their lives. 

Now, they laid awake in silence. It felt cold in the room, where it used to be warm. 

Bucky felt cold. 

Steve didn’t like the cold. 

—

At George’s funeral, Steve was at Bucky’s side the whole time. His older sister Rebecca clung to her mom, her face splotchy and red. Everyone was dressed in black and approached Winnie with their condolences. 

Steve’s mom was by her side the whole time. 

Steve had never been to a funeral before. His mom had dressed him in a black suit (which was too big for him) and styled his hair. She had tucked a stray hair back in place as she was getting him ready and placed a kiss on his forehead. Her eyes had been watery and a tear had slid down her cheek. Steve hated seeing his mom cry. 

Bucky and Steve sat next to each other on the bench. Steve’s feet didn’t touch the ground. Bucky’s did. Bucky was looking down at his hands in his lap and messing with his fingers. Steve reached over and held his hand.

That’s how they spent the rest of the funeral. 

When Winnie stumbled over her speech and broke down into tears in front of everyone, when Rebecca wailed and clung to her father’s casket, and when Bucky stared blankly at the framed photo of his father next to it. Steve kept a firm grip on his friend’s hand. 

They walked out of the church hand in hand, and Bucky chose to sit under the shade of a big tree when they lowered his father into the ground. Steve tried to get him to join his mom and Rebecca, but he insisted on staying under the tree. He was always stubborn like that.

“Look, Stevie. It’s a turtle,” he pointed to a fluffy cloud in the sky. He was laying down in the grass with his head against the base of the tree, Steve was sitting cross legged next to him. Both of their moms would probably lecture them about getting grass stains on their suits. 

“Buck?” He looked down at him. 

“Hm?” 

“Are you okay?”

Steve noticed the hesitation before Bucky answered him. He didn’t make eye contact with the other boy. 

“Mhm. ‘M fine, Stevie. Don’t worry about me.”

Steve extended his hand with his pinkie finger out. Bucky glanced at it and intertwined his own with Steve’s. A pinky promise. 

Bucky was always trying to get Steve to not worry about him. But he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another baby chapter! these chapters are pretty short compared to what i’m going to be writing in the future. i just wanted to have these flashbacks into the biggest points of steve and bucky’s life i guess, so these are gonna be shorter.
> 
> i have the next two written so i’ll be putting those up pretty quickly too!
> 
> love u all if you’re reading this!
> 
> -m


	3. iii

_ March 20th, 2010 _

Steve was awoken by the loud pounding of Bucky knocking on his bedroom door. He groaned and rolled over, shoving his face further into his pillow. It was Saturday! Why was Bucky waking him up early?

“Wake up, Steve!” He burst into the room and hopped onto the bed. Bucky had shot up a couple inches over the last few months and his legs and arms were long and gangly. His hair was short and disheveled on top of his head, he had cut in recently. 

Steve peeked at him from squinted eyes and pulled the blanket over his head.

‘M tired, Buck,” he grumbled. He still wasn’t used to how low his voice had gotten over the last summer. Bucky’s still cracked sometimes when he was really excited about something. 

“Stevie! It’s my birthday,” Bucky pouted. “You said we’d spend the day at Al’s.”

Steve pulled the blanket down and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. They had agreed to spend the day at Al’s - their favorite arcade.

He got up and got dressed - he made Bucky turn around when he got up - and tried to fix his messy hair in the mirror. He hated looking at his skinny arms and his too-big shirt hanging over his tiny frame. His mom and Bucky always told him he’d grow into himself eventually, but he was impatient. 

Bucky was already filling out and turning into more of a man than a boy, and Steve wasn’t. He was still the skinny, too short asthmatic kid who only had one friend. Everyone else didn’t talk to him. 

They sat alone at lunch. In the corner of the cafeteria, where they could sit across from each other and talk about comic books. Bucky would read his favorite comics and then let Steve borrow them, and they’d go back and forth trading them. Sometimes Steve had favorites he’d borrowed from Bucky that he wouldn’t give back. 

Bucky didn’t seem to care. 

Bucky nudged him in the ribs and smiled at him in the mirror. 

“You look great, Stevie. C’mon,” he said. Steve’s stomach was in knots. 

The arcade was a quick bike ride from their houses. Bucky would occasionally race ahead of Steve and Steve would have to pause for a moment to take a breath from his inhaler before continuing. They propped their bikes up against the worn brick side of the building and went in. The arcade had been one of their favorite places to hang out. It was filled with old pinball machines and vintage games, and they stayed there for hours on end. The prizes they could win with tickets were small, like little keychains or erasers, but they always competed to see who could get the most. 

Steve took his place at PAC Man while Bucky settled in next to him to play Galaga. Bucky put his whole body into the game, leaning side to side whenever he moved the controls. Steve smiled fondly as he watched Bucky win 100 tickets, his fist thrown up in the air. 

They continued like that for an hour, their pockets and hands full of tickets. Steve was finishing up at one of the pinball machines and turned to show off his tickets to Bucky - but Bucky wasn’t behind him. 

He spotted him across the arcade, leaning against one of the games and talking to a girl from their class. Emily, he thought her name was. She had long blonde hair and brown eyes, freckles brushed across her cheeks and nose. She was laughing at everything Bucky said. 

He looked at her and asked her something, and she laughed and placed a hand on his shoulder. Bucky glanced at Steve and offered him a small wave - and turned his attention back to Emily. Emma? Steve wasn’t sure. 

His cheeks were on fire and his stomach was anxious, but he focused himself on the arcade game in front of him. He’d barely started when he got killed by the space aliens and Bucky ran up behind him.

“Dude, you’ll never guess!” He grinned at Steve, holding up a piece of paper with numbers scribbled on it. “Emily from our history class gave me her number. And I asked her on a date!”

“That’s awesome, Buck,” Steve smiled. 

“But Stevie! Wait! It gets better,” he had a huge grin on his face. “She has a friend, her name is Anna. We’re gonna go on a double date!”

Steve’s stomach plummeted. 

Bucky’s smile was huge and he looked so proud of himself, but Steve was filled with dread. 

There was no way a girl  _ wanted _ to go on a date with him. 

That was a joke. 

He wasn’t going to go, that was it. 

—

Well, Bucky made him go. They went that weekend, and Rebecca drove them to Emily’s house to pick them up. Bucky was dressed nicely, and he’d helped Steve pick out an outfit, but Steve still looked terrible. He always did. 

Emily had giggled and flushed bright red when she held Bucky’s hand, and Anna hadn’t even looked in Steve’s direction. 

They’d gone to a restaurant and sat by their dates in the booth. Emily was flush against Bucky’s side, and Anna kept as far as she could away from Steve. Steve tried to make conversation with her when Bucky and Emily were making jokes on their side of the booth, but she didn’t seem interested. When they got up to leave, he tried to grab her hand and she snatched it away, giving him a disgusted look. 

So, he’d looked out the window the whole drive home. They’d dropped off the girls and Bucky had kissed Emily’s cheek, and the girls had giggled on their way into their house. Steve hadn’t started crying until they got back to Bucky’s house. 

He had locked the bathroom door and sat against it, his small legs pulled into his chest. Used tissues were scattered around on the floor around him, and his nose was all plugged up from crying. 

He was a  _ joke.  _

No one would ever want to go on a date with someone who looked like  _ him. _

His legs were too long for his body and his arms were too skinny. Bucky was almost a foot taller than him at this point. 

“Stevie?” Bucky’s voice was muffled from the other side of the door. He softly knocked. “You okay?”

“‘M fine, Buck!” Steve called, his voice cracking. But he knew his voice gave it away. He heard Bucky slide down the door and sit against the other side of it, and heard the sound of him resting his head back against it.

“What happened?” His voice was soft, but loud enough for Steve to hear it through the door. 

Steve scooted away from the bathroom door and leaned up to unlock it. Bucky hesitantly opened it and peeked in, making eye contact with Steve. 

When he did, his whole composure changed and his face fell.

“Oh shit, Steve. C’mere,” he crawled into the bathroom and sat next to Steve. Without hesitation, he pulled Steve into his lap and wrapped his arms around him. Steve was so tiny compared to Bucky. He hated it but he also felt so…  _ safe _ in his arms. 

Bucky held him tight as they sat on the bathroom floor, even though Steve’s tears made wet spots in his shirt and his nose ran. This happened often. 

Just last week, the kids had shoved Steve against the lockers and ripped his homework and books to shreds in front of him. They’d all laughed and joked until Bucky came barreling down the hall in a rage - his face red and angry. He’d screamed at them and shoved one of the kids into a locker, causing him to get detention. 

But, Bucky didn’t care. 

He hated when people treated Steve like that.

“S-she hated me, Buck,” Steve whispered. “No ones gonna ever want me.”

“That’s bullshit,” Bucky said. He softly ran a hand through Steve’s hair. Intimacy like this had never been weird to them. “You’re great.”

Steve snorted. Yeah right. 

“I mean it,” he said. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met, Stevie.”

That made Steve’s heart swell in his chest. And it made his stomach flip and twist into a billion knots. 

“Promise?”

Bucky didn’t answer, all he did was extend his pinky towards Steve. And Steve intertwined his own with Bucky’s. A silent promise between them. 

Bucky didn’t end up going on another date with Emily. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next one is gonna be a bit longer, and then we’re gonna start getting closer to present time. 
> 
> i’m Rly excited about the idea of this fic so im hoping people read it!
> 
> <3
> 
> -m


	4. iv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really like this chapter tbh. i’m Having trouble writing the next one for some reason but this ones good, i’m happy w it. 
> 
> i rly hope people want to read this, i love writing it so much
> 
> sad stuff ahead!

_ July 4th, 2013 _

Steve hadn’t really wanted to come to this party. It  _ was _ technically for him, but it was also just an excuse for all his classmates to get drunk and high and have a reason for it. Not like they did it every weekend for no reason anyways. 

It was being thrown at Tony Stark’s house, who was one of the most popular kids in their grade. It was a huge house compared to Steve’s - with vaulted ceilings and glass chandeliers and hundreds of years old alcohol locked up in the cellar. 

Somehow, between junior high and high school, Steve had been able to make other friends. 

Between their sophomore and junior year, Steve had shot up six inches. Suddenly, he was taller than everyone in their class and had muscles bigger than them too. He still wasn’t used to being so  _ big _ and actually being noticed by people. 

Everyone told him to play basketball or football, but unfortunately he still had the incoordination of the little skinny kid. He stuck to his art classes.

But as Bucky often pointed out to him, he  _ was _ noticed. By a lot of people. 

Apparently, tons of girls at school had a crush on him. On old Steve Rogers. 

He didn’t believe it though. 

Even though he was over six feet and had toned muscles and could grow facial hair now, he still felt like the tiny skinny boy. 

It would take him a long time to grow out of that. 

Bucky was off somewhere at the party, surely getting shitfaced, and Steve was in the kitchen with Tony, Scott Lang and Clint Barton. Tony jokingly punched Steve’s bicep and then frowned, shaking his wrist in feigned pain. 

“Dude, how does it feel to be seventeen and look like a fucking bodybuilder?” He giggled and finished whatever concoction was in his Solo cup. He hopped off the counter in search of something else to drink, almost slipping and falling onto his ass. Clint rolled his eyes and looked at Steve, an amused look on his face. 

Always the life of the party, Tony was. 

Tony and Steve had become friends in their graphic design class. He was flamboyant and loud, exactly the opposite of Steve. But for some reason, they got along. He was one of the richest kids in school, too. Tonight he was dressed in a button up floral shirt, black jeans and some new Gucci shoes he’d probably paid hundreds of dollars for. Or, his dad had. 

The beat of the techno music at the party was loud, and the flashing neon lights in the living room were casting a glow in the kitchen. Steve felt so out of place in parties like this. Even now, when everyone had come up to him and wished him a happy birthday, when everyone  _ knew _ him, it still felt weird. 

Especially when he wasn’t with Bucky. 

Scott, Tony and Clint didn’t know Bucky well. They just knew that wherever Steve went, Bucky went too. So they invited him to everything. Bucky watched all of them with a wary eye. He had told Steve he didn’t want any of them using Steve for some reason - Steve wasn’t sure what they would be using him for - but he let it go.

Steve left the kitchen in search of his best friend. He had to push through the throngs of drunk and sweaty teens, but he found him in the backyard with Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanoff. The rest of the varsity soccer team, which Bucky had gotten into in their junior year, were playing beer pong in the yard. He was barely standing at this point, a half empty drink in his hand. And Steve was sure it wasn’t his first. Or his third. 

“St.. Stevie!” He slurred, a big goofy smile spreading across his face. He set the drink down and walked over to Steve. He reeked of alcohol. 

Steve smiled fondly and looked down at Bucky. Oh yeah, he looked  _ down _ at him now. He would never get used to that. 

“Having fun?” He asked. Bucky nodded and laughed, a loud bubbly noise. 

“Yeah! Jus’ celebratin’ your birthday, Stevie!” His cheeks were flushed red from the alcohol. His hair had been growing out recently and it flopped down into his eyes. Steve wished he’d stop calling him Stevie in front of everyone. 

Bucky picked up his drink and lifted it up to his mouth, but his drunk coordination took over and he spilled it all down the front of his shirt. Bright pink stains spread down to his waistline. Steve tried to keep himself from laughing. 

“C’mon, Buck. You’re a mess,” he grabbed onto Bucky’s wrist and pulled him inside. It was like pulling deadweight. 

Bucky walked next to him, looking up at Steve with a weird look in his eyes. The kitchen was crowded but Steve managed to find one of Tony’s bathrooms unoccupied. It kinda smelled like vomit but he tried to ignore that. 

Bucky tried unbuttoning his shirt himself, but his fingers couldn’t find the buttons fast enough and Steve was impatient. He deftly unbuttoned it, Bucky’s eyes on him the whole time; and balled up the shirt in his fist. 

He rang it out in the sink, pink liquid swirling around the drain. After running cold water over the pink stains, they had managed to fade but Bucky’s shirt would still be wet. And Winnie would be able to smell the alcohol on him from a mile away. 

Bucky was sitting on the sink next to Steve, watching him work. He was still slightly swaying back and forth even when he was sitting still, but his eyes had settled on Steve. 

“I like when ya take care of me, Stevie,” he mumbled. His words still came out slurred.

Steve was used to taking care of him. He remembered the first time Bucky had really gotten drunk at a party, and he’d thrown up all over himself and cried the whole way home. Steve had helped him inside, even though at that time Bucky was much bigger than him, and had cleaned him up. They hadn’t talked about it since. 

“You gotta stop calling me that,” Steve smiled softly. “We aren’t kids anymore, Bucky.”

Bucky frowned, his bottom lip almost making a pout. Steve focused on his lips for another second before meeting his best friend’s blue eyes. He found that Bucky’s eyes had been trained on his lips as well. 

“You’re m’ Stevie though,” Bucky said softly. “Always will be.”

The words exchanged between them were soft, only for them to hear in the secluded bathroom. They could hear the pounding of the music right outside the door and the groups of people laughing and singing. But Bucky spoke just loud enough for Steve to hear. 

Why was Steve staring at his lips? His lips were pink, slightly chewed on because that was one of Bucky’s nervous ticks. But they were full and pink and -

Steve found himself leaning into Bucky’s frame on the sink. Bucky’s hands were holding himself up on the counter, his pupils dilated and focused on Steve’s mouth. 

He could smell Bucky’s breath, it mingled in the small space between their mouths. It smelled like strawberries and vodka...

“Hurry up, I gotta piss!” They heard a loud pounding on the door and Steve broke out of it, his body jumping back from Bucky’s. He shook his head and tossed the shirt to Bucky, not wanting to look up and make eye contact. 

_ Was he about to kiss his best friend? _

Bucky stumbled off the counter and out of the room without another look at Steve. And Steve, with his cheeks flushed and his heart racing, slipped past the drunk kid outside the door who had surely already urinated all over himself. 

He stayed in the kitchen for the next hour or so, joking around with Tony and Scott, who got progressively more drunk as the night went on. The party had started to die down, with people heading home and passing out on the couches and armchairs. 

It was nearly 3 am now, and he still had to get Bucky home. Most nights, Steve was the designated driver. 

He detached himself from Tony, who was drunkenly singing to Steve and holding onto him, and weaved his way through the huge house. No Bucky. 

When he found him, it made his stomach drop to the floor. He was on one of the couches in the living room, a black haired girl from one of their classes straddling his lap. They were making out, Bucky’s hands on her hips and her hands tangling up his too-long hair. Steve felt sick. 

He shook his head and tried to shake the thoughts out of his head. He shouldn’t be upset.  _ Why the hell was he upset? _

He hated this feeling. 

He knew he shouldn’t leave Bucky at the party, he never had, but he couldn’t stand in that room and watch him any longer. He fished around in his pocket for his car keys and left the party, probably slamming the door behind him a little too hard. 

_ Why was he so upset? _

—

Bucky forgave him for leaving him at the party. Honestly, he had told Steve he didn’t remember much of the night and he had woken up on one of Tony’s couches. 

He’d been a little bitter towards Steve at first, but they got over it. They always did. 

They had never really fought growing up, they always figured it out. 

Steve had chosen not to think about everything that happened the other night. The  _ almost _ kiss. It was nothing, he was probably just making it all up in his head. 

He blamed it on the little amount of alcohol he had drank that night. 

So now they were sitting next to each other on Steve’s bed, only half paying attention to the video game they were playing. Bucky’s character got killed and he groaned, tossing the controller to the end of the bed. 

“Y’know how I asked out Jade?” He rolled onto his back, looking up at the ceiling. 

“Yeah,” Steve didn’t look over. Jade was the girl from the party. 

“She’s being weird, acting like she doesn’t like me and shit,” he sighed. “I don’t understand girls, man.”

Steve offered a half-hearted smile in response and shrugged his shoulders. 

“Me neither, Buck.”

—

It was two nights later, on July 10th, that Winnifred Barnes died. 

Steve was up in his room studying. His eyes were barely holding themselves open at this point and he’d almost fallen asleep a few times. He heard a car door outside and peeked out the window, it was his mom. She was home a lot later than usual. 

What really got him worried was when she burst into his room without knocking, her eyes bloodshot and face tear stained. His mom was barely able to stumble over her words over her sobs, but Steve managed to figure it out. 

Winnie had died. 

She’d been really sick and no one had known. 

A heart attack. 

Steve’s own heart felt like it had stopped in his chest. His mom clung to him like he was the only thing on this earth as sobs racked her body and he held her tighter than he’d ever held anyone - she had just lost her best friend. She had probably been there when Winnie had been rushed in. She’d probably been called about a heart attack patient coming in, she’d probably prepped the ER without knowing it was her best friend. 

Her best friend. 

Steve’s stomach plummeted through the floor. 

“G-go to Bucky,” Sarah said. Her voice cracked and she placed a shaking hand on Steve’s cheek. “He’ll need you.”

When he found Bucky, he was sitting on the front steps of his house. Their neighborhood was silent, the sun had almost finished setting. The birds had returned to their nests for the night and people had started to settle in. The world was quiet, it was as if the earth was mourning Winnie Barnes. 

Bucky was sitting on the steps, his head hanging down and his hands in his lap. He didn’t move as Steve sat down next to him. 

Their bodies were flush against each other’s, and Bucky’s was still. He wasn’t even shaking. 

All Steve did was reach over and grab Bucky’s hand. His was about the same size as Steve’s, and it was cold to the touch. His fingernails were chewed down to the quick and a couple were bloody. It took Bucky a moment but he twined his fingers with Steve’s. 

He didn’t look up, didn’t say a word. 

Steve didn’t even think he shed a tear. 

But he sat there, hand intertwined with Steve’s, until the sun rose the next morning. 

—

The funeral reception had started twenty minutes ago, and Bucky still wasn’t here. Rebecca was standing tall at the entrance, greeting everyone and accepting their condolences. Her hands were shaking and her eyes were bloodshot from crying, but she thanked everyone for coming. 

Sarah had given a speech during the funeral. She’d talked about her and Winnie’s childhood and adulthood together, being pregnant together and watching their children become best friends. 

Steve had looked around the church for Bucky at that moment, but didn’t see him. 

Steve had said his words with his head bowed over Winnie’s casket. His heart ached in his chest. When they were kids and Bucky’s dad passed away, he didn’t know him well. He wasn’t sure if Bucky really did either. But Winnie had been like another mom to him, and she’d been like a sister to his mother. 

Losing her was like losing a small piece of his heart as well. 

Rebecca had tried to give a speech about her mother, but hadn’t been able to continue. Steve had stood up at the podium, holding her hand and guiding her through when she struggled over the words. 

He knew she wanted Bucky there. She wanted Bucky to be the one helping her with the speech, remembering their good memories of their mom. 

But Bucky didn’t show. 

Steve excused himself from the room and tried dialing Bucky’s cell - it went straight to voicemail. Damn it. 

Steve racked his brain, his stomach was in knots.  _ Where the hell was he? _

Bucky had been distant since his mom died. He’d been sleeping over at Steve’s, in the spare room down the hall. Typically they always shared a bed. They had since they were kids. But Bucky insisted on sleeping in the separate room. 

_ “No, I don’t want to be an inconvenience,” he insisted. “I already feel like one.” _

_ “Bucky, please-“ _

_ “No! I fucking said no, Steve.” _

That had been the end of that conversation. 

Bucky had slept in the spare room. He had come down for meals when Sarah made them, ate in silence, and then went back up to his room. Sometimes when he passed Steve he reeked of tequila, but Steve didn’t say anything. 

He felt as if he had no place to say anything. 

He just wished that Bucky would  _ talk _ to him. They used to talk about everything. From how their days had been, their crushes, how much Bucky missed his dad, how Steve felt about himself -  _ everything. _

They had shared all their feelings and hopes and dreams and… Bucky had started to shut him out once they got into high school. 

He dialed his number again. Voicemail. 

He got in his car and drove to all the usual spots - Al’s, Bucky’s favorite coffee shop, the bookstore. Nothing. 

It wasn’t until he defeatedly parked his car in the driveway of his house that he heard the crashing coming from Bucky’s place. 

Since the funeral, they had put the house up for sale. Rebecca was old enough to care for Bucky now, and she was going to be moving into a smaller place. She couldn’t afford to pay for the house on her own. Movers had come and started to get everything out of the house, but the funeral had taken over most of their time. 

The FOR SALE sign still stood in the front yard. 

But the front door was wide open and crashing noises were echoing through the threshold. Steve’s heart raced in his chest as he turned the ignition off in his car and ran inside. Bucky’s house felt so… empty without any of the furniture in it. Not only physically, it just felt wrong. 

Smashed glass was scattered across the wood floors. Pieces of plates, cups, even shards from the old chandelier in the dining room littered the floor. With the sun shining onto the glittering pieces, it would’ve been pretty in any other scenario. 

A loud crash from the kitchen pulled Steve out of his thoughts and he followed the sound. There were several alcohol bottles sitting on the counter. Most of them were empty. 

Bucky, who’s hair was a wild mess and his eyes were red and bloodshot, was taking all the unpacked plates and dishes out of the cupboard and smashing them against the walls. Steve could see nicks and cuts on his hands and arms where the glass had cut him. 

“Bucky!” Steve ran forward, glass crunching under his feet. Bucky looked at him as if he was in a daze, his pupils wide and look unresponsive. He wobbled in his feet slightly and dropped the glass that was in his hands, which shattered on the floor with a loud crash. 

Steve flinched and just looked at his best friend. 

He had known Bucky had been pulling away from him for a while now. And he didn’t blame him. 

But he barely recognized him. 

When they were kids, Bucky was all warmth and fire and morning light. He was the golden glow of sunsets when they had almost disappeared behind the horizon. He was fireworks in summer and crackling fires in winter.

Now, he just looked cold. His blue eyes were grey and his eyes had bags underneath them. He was only seventeen, but he looked years older. 

It broke Steve’s heart. 

“Buck… what can I do?” His voice cracked.

Bucky shook his head. 

“How can I help?”

Bucky smelled of vodka and tequila and anger and hurt -

He was losing his Bucky. 

“How can you help?” Bucky nearly spat at Steve, his tongue venomous. “How can you  _ help?!” _

Steve flinched away from the acidic tone of Bucky’s voice. He had never spoken to him that way. His words were laced with arsenic and alcohol and anger and -

“You can’t fucking  _ help,  _ Steve! She’s dead,” he yelled. His voice was bitter and hoarse, and he stumbled back against the counter. “She’s fucking dead. No coming back. Gone.”

His voice cracked on the last word and he caught himself on the edge of the counter. His body looked so small and so weak. He slid down against the cupboard until he landed on the ground. Steve tried to object, but he landed on the glass on the ground and didn’t flinch. The palms of his hands made contact with the glass and he lifted them up slowly, looking at them. 

Blood spotted from the places where he’d cut his hands and he looked at it as if he’d never seen blood before. 

Steve cleared a spot of glass and sat next to him. 

Bucky finally made eye contact with him. His hair was too long. It fell across his forehead and nearly covered his eyes. Steve leaned over and pushed it off of his forehead. 

His breaths were ragged and he was chewing on his bottom lip. It was scabbed and chapped and bleeding. 

When Bucky looked at Steve, it looked like his eyes were searching for something, scanning. His eyes lingered for a split second on Steve’s lips but he looked up into his eyes again. 

“She’s dead, Stevie,” His voice cracked. At the sound of his voice and the nickname, Steve’s whole heart cleaved in half. His chest felt like there was a hole in it. 

He couldn’t imagine how Bucky felt. 

He didn’t say anything, Bucky had never needed to say anything when he comforted Steve, he just pulled Bucky into his arms. 

Bucky was tense and much bigger than Steve thought he was, but he still managed to wrap him up in his arms and hold him tight. Bucky resisted at first and Steve could feel the panic radiating from him, but he just held him tighter and closed his eyes. 

After a moment, Bucky’s muscles relaxed and he felt his body melt against Steve’s. He smelled awful and he was getting blood on Steve’s suit, but he didn’t care. 

He pushed his back against the counters and adjusted Bucky in his arms, pushing Bucky’s head down so it was rested against his shoulder. He felt warmth against his arm and realized it was tears. 

They sat like that for a long time. 

Steve just hoped he wouldn’t lose Bucky. And Bucky wouldn’t lose himself. 

He didn’t know what he’d do without him. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we are getting closer to the present chapters. i have three or four “flashback” ones i guess and then i get into the main stuff??
> 
> thanks for reading if you did!
> 
> -m


	5. v

_ March 20th, 2014 _

The last bell rang and everyone in Steve’s Spanish class got up and left the small classroom. He finished putting his notebook and textbooks into his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. 

He had a final coming up in Spanish and he was  _ so  _ going to fail it. 

He’d been a little distracted during their senior year. 

Steve had gotten offers from a couple different colleges now for their art programs. One in San Francisco, one in Georgia, one in Oregon. He was leaning towards Pratt Institute, in Brooklyn. They had given him a really good offer. 

Juggling that and making sure he finished his senior year with  _ mostly _ passing grades, while also somehow having a girlfriend -

Yeah, a  _ girlfriend. _

Her name was Sharon Carter, and they had met in their math classes. She was really smart and joked around with Steve every day, and he had asked her out in December. 

She was blonde and tall and pretty, and Steve liked her company. 

He felt like he was holding a dozen things in his arms and trying to not drop anything. 

Sarah was supportive of all of Steve’s decisions. She congratulated him every time he got another college offer and stayed up until 2 am helping him with homework or studying if he needed it. Steve knew she didn’t want him to leave, though. Which was the part that killed him. 

All of his senior year had felt like a dream, but one of those dreams were something is wrong. 

Bucky. 

Bucky had gotten less distant with Steve after the loss of his mom. He’d come and talk to Steve about it, he cried a couple times, and he started sleeping over in Steve’s room again. He made it to school and seemed like he was putting an effort into his grades.

January and the new year came, and he started to not show up to school. One day a week, two days a week, three. Sometimes a whole week. 

When he did show up, he sat in the back of the class and didn’t pay attention. Steve tried to talk to him but Bucky wouldn’t tell him what was happening. 

His grades had fallen and teachers had tried to talk to him, Rebecca or even Steve about it. 

Now, it was the end of March and Bucky hadn’t been to school in two weeks. It was his birthday. 

His 18th birthday. 

That was a huge birthday! Steve and Bucky has always talked about their 18th birthdays, and how exciting they would be. 

Steve got in his car and tossed his books over onto the passenger seat. 

He had envisioned his senior year to be with Bucky. Looking for colleges with him, asking out prom dates, senior skip day, studying for all their finals together, graduating together. 

It hadn’t really turned out like that. 

Steve’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he opened it up. His home screen was a cute picture of him and Sharon, her wrapping her arms around him and planting a kiss on his cheek. She had set it on his phone. 

_ From Bucky: meet me at my place, we gotta talk _

Steve frowned as his stomach churned. ‘We have to talk’ was a universal bad sign. He turned on his car and it was a quick drive to Bucky and Rebecca’s place. They had sold their old house next to Steve’s shortly after Winnie died, and moved into a small apartment across town. It had two bedrooms and was just big enough for them, and Rebecca could afford it. Sarah always offered to help them out, but Rebecca said she didn’t need help. 

He pulled up by the curb and turned his key in the ignition. He saw Bucky sitting on the front steps of his apartment. He had a black duffle bag at his feet. Steve’s stomach dropped. 

He got out and walked over to him. Bucky was in grey sweats and a black hoodie, the hoodie pulled over his head. He looked up at Steve and didn’t smile. 

Steve missed when he used to always look at Steve and smile. 

“Bucky? What’s going on?”

“‘M leaving, Steve.” He pushed the hood off of his head and stood up, coming almost eye level with Steve. He was still a little taller than Bucky. 

“What?” Steve frowned and looked at the older boy. “What do you mean?”

Bucky sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I joined the army.”

Steve felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice cold water over him. His stomach stopped twisting itself into knots, it just plummeted to the ground. His heart felt like ice shards stabbed through it. 

“W.. what?” His voice came out barely a whisper. 

“I enlisted. I leave today. ‘M eighteen now, I can go.” Steve noticed Bucky wasn’t making eye contact with him. His eyes were focused on something on the ground. Or something above Steve’s left shoulder. Anywhere but Steve’s eyes. 

“You can’t just  _ go,  _ Bucky! I.. You’re just going to leave school? And Rebecca?”  _ And me? _

Bucky snorted, rolling his eyes in amusement. 

“You think I give two shits about school? And Rebecca is fine with it. It’s my decision, Steve.”

Steve looked at Bucky, his best friend in the whole world, the one person who knew him best. Bucky had joked around when they were younger and said “ _ Stevie, you know what? I think we’re soulmates.” _

Steve felt sick. His stomach was churning and his legs were shaking and he could almost taste the bile rising up in his throat. 

“You should’ve asked me about it,” he whispered. He knew he spoke loud enough for Bucky to hear, even though he didn’t react at first. 

Bucky finally made eye contact, and the look was cold.  _ This wasn’t him.  _

“I leave today,” he said. “‘M going to be training and then I’ll be in Europe somewhere.”

Steve felt like the whole world was spinning in circles around him and he was stuck in this rut and he couldn’t move. He needed to grab Bucky, he needed to keep him here and not let him leave. 

But Bucky felt so far away from him. Steve felt like even if he reached his arms out as far as he could, Bucky would still be out of his grasp. 

And it had felt like that for a while. 

“Buck,” was all Steve managed to say. His voice cracked and his chest felt like it was cracking in half, too. Tears formed in his eyes and when Bucky made eye contact with him - the coldness in his eyes and the sharp tense in his jaw lessened. He saw a flash of his Bucky looking through at him. 

“I’ll write letters,” Bucky offered. “We-“

Steve wrapped his arms around his best friend. He held him tight and buried his face in his shoulder. His sweater smelled just like him: mint and lavender. 

Bucky was tense for a moment, but he felt his body slowly give in and his arms snakes around Steve. He held onto him almost as tightly as Steve clung to him. Tears were dropping onto Bucky’s sweater, but at this point he didn’t care. 

He didn’t know how long they stood there for. 

Bucky was the one who pulled away, and who jokingly punched Steve in the arm and told him to “knock it off, stop crying.”

Bucky was the one who gave Steve one last quick hug and a whispered promise that he’d write to him every week. 

Bucky was the one who held out his pinkie towards his best friend, in a silent gesture that they understood. 

Bucky was the one who left. 

And Steve was alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to come back to this fic! I’ve been struggling to write original content lately, so I wanted to continue working on this just so I can keep writing! Hopefully people like it.
> 
> This is a really short one, but more to come.
> 
> Thanks so much!
> 
> -M


	6. vi

_ Steve: June 14th, 2014 _

_ Steve, _

_ You know, I had enjoyed all the traveling and everything up until now. The desert sucks. It’s so hot and gross during the day, and cold as hell at night. You know I hate it when it’s hot out.  _

_ Scary, too. A group of ours got ambushed a few weeks back and only a few of them made it back. Makes me realize I got into some serious shit.  _

_ And dude! Hell yeah! Of course you finished with a 4.0. Figured you would.  _

_ You were always way better at the school shit than I was. This, though. I’m good at it. Found out I’m a pretty damn good shot.  _

_ It’s weird. I never really thought this is how my life would end up, ya know? But I’m happy over here. It makes it easier to… deal with everything I guess.  _

_ Thanks for still writing to me, Steve. You gotta keep me updated on what’s happening in the world.  _

_ Miss ya, Steve.  _

_ Love, Bucky _

Steve and Bucky had been exchanging letters since Bucky left. He had trained for a while, and then he’d been sent out. Steve wasn’t sure where and Bucky couldn’t tell him. 

He’d been gone for just about three months now, and it wasn’t getting any easier for Steve. 

The letters helped. 

At least he knew Bucky was alive. 

He knew Bucky wasn’t going to tell him how it  _ really _ was over there though. It was war and Bucky was in the middle of it. 

Today was the day they were supposed to graduate together, and he was reading a letter from his best friend, one that still faintly smelled like machinery and Sharpie ink. 

Bucky was supposed to be here. 

  
  


“Steve Rogers!” 

They called Steve’s name and he walked across the stage, the roar of parents applauding and classmates cheering behind him. 

He accepted his diploma and turned towards the crowd of people. His eyes focused on his mom - who was holding her hand over her mouth and had tears in her eyes. 

Sarah Rogers had never felt so proud watching her son walk across that stage. Her heart welled with pride and love as she watched him. She ached for Winnie to be by her side, watching James walk with him. 

But both of them were gone. 

Steve had felt a sense of emptiness when they read off the last names starting with B.  _ James Barnes. _

James Barnes should’ve been called out and Bucky should have strolled across the stage with a huge ridiculous smile on his face, he should’ve cheered and whooped and hollered for Steve when his name was called, and they should’ve tossed their caps in the air together. 

Together. 

But Steve was by himself. 

When the class of 2014 threw their graduation caps in the air, Steve tossed his and hoped that Bucky was doing okay. Wherever he was. 

—

The afterparty was what he had expected. It was being held at Alexander Pierce’s house, a kid Steve didn’t know very well. But he did throw a hell of a party. He’d hired a DJ, catering, all of it. 

When Steve arrived, Tony was already drunk. He had his graduation cap sideways on his head and his arm wrapped around his girlfriend, Pepper. She shook her head at him. 

“Steeeeeeve! Hey, man! We did it!” He clapped his hand on Steve’s shoulder and yelled over the music. “We fuckin’ did it!”

“Starting the celebrating early, huh?” Steve laughed.

“Fuck yeah! We deserve it!” Tony finished off his drink and pulled away in search of another. 

Tony had graduated first in their class and hadn’t decided where he was going yet - he’d gotten so many offers. He’d been their valedictorian, and given a cheesy speech Steve was sure he had plagiarized. 

Sam Wilson was in the living room, leading an intense game of beer pong. He was their class’ reigning champion. He had graduated with a full ride to Princeton, where he’d be playing football. 

Scott, who was unfortunately already in the pool, had accepted an offer to NYU. He wanted to stay close. 

Steve’s girlfriend, Sharon, was going to Harvard.  _ Yeah, Harvard.  _

As for Steve - he had options, but had ultimately picked Pratt Institute. When he went on a tour and saw the campus, he had fallen in love. Oh, and it had definitely helped that he’d been offered amazing scholarships into their fine arts programs. 

Steve often found himself wondering what school Bucky would’ve gone to. 

He wished Bucky was here. 

Steve downed another drink and pushed the thoughts of Bucky out of his mind. He had tonight and the rest of the summer to live and party and enjoy his break, and he wasn’t going to be miserable. 

And later that night, when Sharon tugged him by the front of his shirt into an empty bedroom and kissed along his neck, he lost himself in her and didn’t allow his brain to think about Bucky. 

  
  


_ Bucky: June 14th, 2014 _

  
  


The worst part of it for Bucky was the cold. There was something different about the cold out in the desert from what he was used to. It chilled down to his bones and made his muscles ache. He scooted closer to the small fire his group had started and held his palms towards the warmth. It was blinding against the pitch dark of the desert around them. 

He’d always hated the cold.

Bucky wasn’t sure where they were. They had stopped and set up camp for the night, his lieutenant had told them they’d make it to base by tomorrow. 

He’d never complained during his training. Not once. Even when his muscles screamed at him to give them a break, or when his lungs burned with the struggle of running mile after mile, he kept pushing. 

Anything he could do to push the thoughts out of his head. 

He had to get away. He had always known he’d have to leave at some point, that he couldn’t stick around and be miserable forever, but it had still been hard. 

Bucky had started to notice the way he felt around Steve when they were kids. The flip of his stomach, the fluttering in his chest, the way that he always thought of Steve before he went to sleep and when he woke up. 

He thought that was just how you felt about your best friend. 

But then in high school, when he had thought about kissing him in the bathroom, he knew that wasn’t normal. He knew he had to get away before he messed things up and lost his best friend forever. 

He wished he’d just felt normal, like he was supposed to. He wished he felt the way he was supposed to feel about girls, about school, about his best friend. 

His mom dying had just pushed him to do it sooner. If he had to stay in that house with Steve forever, live in the room next to him, hear him sleeping and be there when he stepped out of the shower, glistening and-

So, he left. 

And the pain hadn’t gotten any better. The ache in his chest intensified as he got further away from his best friend. The more miles he put between them made the strings on his heart more taut. 

One of these days he was sure it was going to burst. 

So, he had put all his pain and anger into training. He had worked out and studied and gotten to the top of his group, and now he was the best sniper they had. 

He never missed a shot. 

Even now, the familiar weight of his rifle against his back was comforting. 

He knew it was mid-June, Steve would be graduating soon. And his birthday was next month. 

“Hungry, Barnes?” Dugan handed an aluminum package over to Bucky. Dugan was a bigger guy, with a full beard and laughing lines on his face. He had been the most welcoming person when Bucky first arrived. “Curry tonight.”

The one thing Bucky missed was regular food. But he obliged and took the package, tipping his head back to pour some in his mouth. It was bland and not spicy enough, but it eased the ache in his belly. 

The other men around the fire had dozed off. They were curled up on their sides, guns and knives right next to them. Bucky knew they would wake at the softest sound.

“Thanks,” he said. His voice sounded more gruff than he remembered it sounding. Dugan shuffled around next to him and tossed more wood into the fire. The wood crackled and popped and glowing embers floated up into the air. 

“You can sleep if you want,” he said. “You know I’ve got first watch.”

“Can’t,” Bucky mumbled. “Too much on my mind.”

“Lady back home?” He smirked, his eyes glinting in the firelight. “I know that look all too well, my friend. Seen plenty of fellas with that look. Hell, I’ve had that look dozens of times.”

Bucky shook his head and didn’t answer, instead looking down at the sand beneath him. He ran his hands through the grains of it, letting it fall through the cracks in his fingers. Him and Steve had always wanted to go to the beach together when they were kids. They saw it in movies and tv, but had never been to a proper one. One with white sand and blue water, one where they could build sand castles and stick their toes in the sand and play in the water. The memory made Bucky smile. 

“You know my girl back home, she-“

Dugan’s words were cut off by a sharp  _ bang.  _

In a split second, everything changed. Bucky felt something warm and hot splatter on his face, and Dugan’s body collapsed onto the sand next to him. More gunshots rang through the desert, and all the other bodies around him collapsed. His men didn’t even get a chance to get up. His heart raced and he wanted to panic, to run and hide, but he had been trained otherwise. 

He went to grab for his gun, but then felt the cold pressure of a gun against the back of his head. He heard words being whispered between men behind him, but couldn’t understand them. 

In the next second, a hood was drawn over his head and everything was drowned in darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow! i haven't uploaded something to this in so long. it's been sitting in my wip folders for so long, and i even had additional chapters written, and i've always been meaning to come back to it.
> 
> hi all :) 
> 
> -m


End file.
